


Oops.

by Belkiney



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Birthday Fanfic, Dubious Consent, M/M, Magic, Plot What Plot, Stiles being Stiles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-19
Updated: 2013-06-19
Packaged: 2017-12-15 12:22:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,433
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/849523
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Belkiney/pseuds/Belkiney
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's not Stiles' fault that when everyone else is all wolfed up and running around he's got nothing to do but sit around. And he's always had a problem with listening so when Deaton hands him a book filled with magic things how could you expect him not to play with it?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Oops.

**Author's Note:**

  * For [tylrhoechlns](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=tylrhoechlns).



> So this started out as a birthday fic for one of the lovely people I follow on tumblr tylrhoechlns ( whom you should seriously check out because it's an awesome blog ) but now idek. I may write more in the same series or I may just leave it as it is. Whatever, one quick Sterek coming your way. 
> 
> This is completely madness:D

       Stiles paced the length of his room. From the end of his bed to the desk and back. His desk to end of his bed and back. He wondered how long it would take for grooves to form in the carpet like the bare spots in grass that dogs created after repeated running along the same path. This was bad, or maybe it wasn’t, but whatever he did wasn’t ‘good’. This was Beacon Hill and anything that happened within the cities limits was never ‘good’ anymore. Certainly not after Stiles started to poke at it and this time was no exception, he just couldn’t stop himself. ADD and all that.

 

* * *

  
  


When Deaton had handed him the book, a thick thing bound together with worn leather and a fraying spine, he literally tingled with excitement completely ignoring Deaton’s vague warning of how it was magical and that it changed with who hand it yadda yadda yadda. Yes the book was only given to him on a temporary loan to help McHale & Co to fend off the latest supernatural baddie, but that was boring. He’d found the information they needed in minutes anyway so when the boredom set in it wasn’t any great leap for him to reach for the book. The magic book.

 

He’d cracked that bad boy open on his desk eagerly Spinning from side to side in his desk chair he flipped through the pages occasionally marking inserts he wanted to photocopy with post it notes. He’d looked through the whole book and sat back disappointed when he found nothing he could do immediately. It all required complicated ingredients or intricate work that he just did not have the patience to get into. Stiles kicked back in chair and stared at the rocky surface of his ceiling for a moment. He wanted something to do now, he had this awesome book in his hands and couldn’t do anything with it. This must be what Iron Man felt like without his suit, having the capacity to do something but none of the equipment.

 

With a snap the chair started tipping to the side. Stiles scrambled madly reaching out desperately trying to get a grip to his desk instead only grabbing the book which slide ride off the desk and onto the floor with him. He grumbled pulling the book off his head and glaring at it ruefully. Hold on. His neck snapped back to look at the page the book had fallen open to. There was no description just “Romulus’ Recipe” messily written across the top of the page with instructions that basically said to mash everything together and eat. The ingredients read more like a cooking recipe than any sort of spell work, but Deaton had told him a huge part of power of belief. Stiles paused for a heartbeat his mind ghosting over the fact that he had no idea what the spell was meant to do, but curious won out. He couldn’t stop himself once something so tempting fell into his lap.

 

       What he needed was simple: basil, bay, cinnamon, dandelion and lemon were the only listed ingredients followed by a note in messy scrawl that Stiles had to squint to make out, “Trust your intuition, use what feels appropriate.”  Could that be more of an invitation to add anything he needed? Nope. Stiles started pulling jars out of the duffel he’d taken from Deaton’s office. Setting everything aside until he found the jar he was looking for. He set the mason jar filled with wolfsbane on his desk next to where he’d collected everything else in a bowl and then set about mixing everything together. It looked a tiny molding pile of leaves with little yellow flowers (the dandelions he’d picked from his own yard) poking out of it at random.

 

       Stiles pulled at face having forgot that now, if he wanted the spell to work, he was going to have to eat the mixture. He pulled the bowl to his face and took wiff it reeked. Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea. He sniffed at the bowl again and shrugged, though, he’d definitely eaten worse in his life. He scooped up a bit in his fingers and closed his eyes visualizing his power, He exhaled deeply and believed it was going to work like he had with the Mountain Ash when they’d tried to trap Jackson. One more deep breathe later and he stuck the mixture into his mouth. It was grainy with herbs and the taste of so much cinnamon burned his throat.

 

* * *

  
  


       Now he was pacing. Nothing had happened, but something had to happen. He felt it. Felt the pull of magic just like he had with the Mountain Ash but now there was nothing. He felt no different, looked no different, little dancing ponies had not sprung out of his closet doing a merry jig either. He’d waited thirty minutes with no results, absolutely nada when his phone tinkled softly from somewhere in the mess of blankets on his bed.

 

       “Stiles, is you dad home?”

 

       “Wha- no? But you can’t---”

 

       “We are heading to your house.” Derek’s voice held that stubborn, unshaken finality that Stiles hated.

 

       “Why?!” He’d protested.

 

       “It’s closer than my loft and we need to regroup.” This new found logic of his was getting annoying.

 

       “Fine.” And he’d hung up and gave his room, covered in ingredients and reeking of lemon, a frustrated once over.  Great. Stiles was flinging everything back into the duffel bag not unconcerned with open containers or sticky lemon peels. He’d managed to clean everything up enough for decency when the all too familiar purr of the Camaro’s engine pulled in front of his house followed by his front door banging open and the sounds of people invading his kitchen.

       Derek was stationed at the head of his kitchen table where his dad usually sat with Isaac to his left peering eagerly over his shoulder and Scott off to right leaning against the dishwasher. The three of them were arguing, hashing out something Stiles hadn’t quite picked up when it was suddenly silent save for a low grown, guttural in the sense that Stiles doubted he would of heard it has life not been turned into Werewolfalooza these last few months.

       Blistering red eyes were trained on him, unblinking and feral. Scott and Isaac had dropped to a crouch looking from Stiles and back to Derek with identical looks of confusion. Derek’s growl grew louder as he stood his nails extending into claws as he held onto the table as if to steady himself.

 

       “If you are going to claw something I think I have some rope we can wrap around a post for you.” Stiles drawled sarcastically. His voice wasn’t as firm as he’d hope but cut a guy some slack he was struggling between fifty percent scared and fifty percent aroused. Now was not the time to think a wolfed out Derek was hot, even if he was.

 

       “Out.” Derek growled and it was enough to have Isaac standing by the front door looking at Scott expectantly.

 

       Scott, the ever faithful friend, looked constipated trying to decide what to do. Derek was pressing the full sway of his Alpha powers into this one command and he was unrelenting. Scott fixed his eyes onto Stiles begging for him to give him something to go on. Stiles shrugged as his mind did cartwheels trying to figure out what was happening. When he thought about it he didn’t feel threatened, a little terrified but not in a way that he thought his life was in danger. He gave Scott a brief nod, had he blinked he would have missed Scott rushing out his house with Isaac close at his heels.

 

       Stiles did miss Derek lunging onto his dining room table, but turned in time to see him crawl, actually crawl on all fours, off the table and right into his personal bubble. Hands edged with talons were on him, pulling at the fabric of his shirt as they climbed up his body until the two of them were face to face. Derek dipped his nose into the joint of Stiles’ neck ignoring how stiff the body under him had become. One forceful step had Stiles’ pinned to the kitchen all all the while Derek nuzzling into the crook of his neck.

 

       “Der.. Derek...” Stiles breathed heavily, panting against the firm body that was pressed against his and at the tongue that had coyly snuck out to lap at every inch of tender flesh that was his neck. This was insane, sure he’d thought about Derek hot and ready before. It wasn’t really a challenge to visualize him naked with those tight jeans and sinful henleys, but what the hell was going on. Derek whined, a sound like a dog begging for more, and sharp teeth bit shallowly into the skin of neck pulling Stiles back to reality.

 

       He shoved at the chest holding him in place with a demand that he stop. Derek stopped mouthing his neck allowing a small amount of air to rush back into his lungs clearing his head. Derek jerked at his hips so that the two of them were pressed together in a fine line like this Stiles could feel him through the fabric of his jeans causing his heart to skip a beat. Or several.

 

       “Why?” Derek’s voice was deeper than he’d ever heard it. Really, was it necessary to have a super sexy sex voice because it wasn’t helping Stiles concentrate at all.

 

       “You... Come on, dude! What is going on?!” Stiles protested trying gesticulate but found himself stuck between a wall and a hard place.

 

       “That smell, your smell. It’s so much stronger, just begging me to..” His voice was strangled and rough each syllable playing along Stiles’ skin, “I can always control it, I don’t know why it’s so strong.” Derek whined out.

 

       “And I’ve wanted to for so long...” Derek punctuated each word with a nip at the growing hickey on Stiles’ neck.

 

       Oh. **Oh.** Stiles could have punched himself, maybe he should have listened to Deaton a little bit more. Of course now he would remember why Deaton warned him against playing with the book. The book showed you a way to get what you wanted, what you really wanted. So over the last few months Derek hadn’t been out his head for more than five minutes, but that didn’t mean he was what Stiles truly wanted. For christ sake, half the time he was thinking about Derek he was thinking about how to strangle him in his sleep. Strangle him after he’d had his filthy way with all of that muscle.

 

       Derek bucked forward pressed his erection against Stiles’ own growing problem and started to sink his teeth into already abused flesh. Stiles’ gasped his mouth open long enough for Derek to move from his neck and slam his mouth against Stiles’ pushing his tongue into Stiles’ to lap at his tongue brutally. The kiss was nothing but lips and teeth pushing every thought Stiles had out of his head. It was unreal how well that boy could kiss.

 

       Derek pulled away and dropped to his knees so fluidly Stiles staggered without the support of his chest. Hands pulled roughly at his belt and the zipper of his favorite red jeans. Before Stile could say a word Derek was ripping his pants and boxers down around his thighs and sucking Stiles into his mouth in one quick movement.

 

       Stiles jerked into Derek’s mouth his hands shooting down to lace through Derek’s thick black hair holding on as he bobbed slowly. It was agonizingly slow and each time Stiles began to shake Derek would look up at him, those eyes flashing red with each movement, and stay still occasionally flicking his tongue across the over sensitive head until the shaking subsided and he could continue on mercilessly.

 

Stiles moaned, his head dropping back against the the wall behind him and he yanked at Derek’s hair as white-hot pleasure shot up his spine. One hand was against his lower stomach holding him still and another massaged up his thigh sneaking its way back to grab at one smooth globe of Stiles’ ass. Derek  pulled away then to look up at Stiles with a predatory smile which Stiles was too hazy to even respond to. His legs trembled and heat coiled in his belly, it was hard to stand more so when Derek let go of his butt and rose one hand still stroking languidly at Stiles’ over swollen cock.

 

Lips met again, this time softer thoroughly enjoying every inch of his mouth which Stiles reciprocated eagerly. Stiles dared prod innocently at Derek’s tongue with his own eliciting a pleased growl to rumble from Derek’s chest. Suddenly those lips were gone only to be replaced by fingers against Stiles’ lips. He took them eagerly mimicking Derek’s actions until those too were pulled from his mouth and Derek was sinking back to his knees a mischievous smile playing across the that damnable face. On his knees again Derek quickly picked up where he’d left off, bobbing along the length of Stiles and making sounds deep in his throat that vibrated down into Stiles. Stiles’ wasn’t sure when he’d started to mewl each time Derek moved but every sound he made was rewarded with a flick of tongue against the base of him.

 

       Stiles’ hips stuttered and threatened to give out but Derek’s strong hand brace him against the wall. Another hand moved been his cheeks teasing against his hole. Stiles locked up, this was too fast. He couldn’t breath and his mind was so fogged with sex that he wasn’t even sure which way was up. A finger pressed against his hole and he exploded. His orgasm ripped through him as he spent Derek swallowed it all, his throat moving around Stiles until he’d tasted it all. The radiated like a bomb from within Stiles spreading outward until he was a shaking mess unable to stand on his own and Derek was lowering him tenderly to the ground littering his body with messy kisses the whole way down.

 

On the kitchen floor Derek pulled Stiles against him so that their bodies were cradled together against the tile. Derek buried his face against the purpling flesh running his tongue along the outline tenderly.

 

“Jesus..” Stiles’ began softly his voice hoarse and no louder than a whisper.

 

       “Later.” Derek mumbled into his skin the barest amount of teeth sinking into the bruise.


End file.
